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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453610">Soul Meets Body</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveyaaas/pseuds/fiveyaaas'>fiveyaaas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fiveya Week 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Based off the Mara Dyer series by Michelle Hodkin, Daddy Kink, Emotional Hurt/ Comfort, F/M, Five is Noah, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, I cut out the internalized misogyny tho, I promise, It is loosely based, Oral Sex, PTSD, Romance, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vanya is Mara, a lot of smut, and the general premise, and this will include all three, because it HAD to, but I take a few quotes, in Vanya’s previous relationship, it wasn’t necessary lmao, it’s also more horny than creepy, probably, references to past abuse, side Benkliego/ Alluther, title comes from “Death Cab for Cutie”, y’all I I’m still a lesbian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:40:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveyaaas/pseuds/fiveyaaas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She did not know how she killed them. She knew that one second they were there, and the next they were gone. She knew that she had to leave. She knew, on some level, that he would still find her.</p><p>[Written for Fiveya Week, Day 7: Free Choice.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fiveya Week 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>fiveya week (round 2)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Soul Meets Body</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetheartbitterheart/gifts">sweetheartbitterheart</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so!!! This fic is based off a popular young adult series I read as a teen, but it will diverge a lot in some areas. For anyone wondering, the first book (which this one will be based off of) is called “The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer” by Michelle Hodkin. I will absolutely diverge in many things from the canon of the story, and I’ll cut out a few things from the series completely. There will be three fics for this series, and I’m probably going to split POV with Vanya and Five much earlier than the original series does with Mara and Noah. </p><p>If you read the series-<br/>Vanya will be Mara<br/>Five will be Noah<br/>Ben and Luther will be Daniel and Joseph (except all of them will be the same age) <br/>Allison and Klaus are going to sort of share the role of Jamie (but Allison and Five will be step-siblings) <br/>Sissy is Rachel, Lila is Claire, and Leonard is Jude. </p><p>After that, the characters don’t really take off anybody from the series. Vanya, Five, Allison, and Klaus will all have powers (because they have the most easily translatable powers with the Mara Dyer series LMAO.) Because Noah has the power of healing, I’m making Five’s revolve around the time travel instead of teleporting, so it’ll kinda be half canon Five’s powers and half Noah’s powers (this may be a terrible way to describe it idk.) Allison will have Jamie’s power, and I guess Klaus will have more of Stella’s role somewhat, except with talking to dead people instead of reading thoughts. Vanya is just going to have Mara’s power, but lbr they’re not that different, except Mara’s can’t ever be used for good. </p><p>Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this series, which will update as I can!! Dedicated to sweetheartbitterheart, who I appreciate so much! I hope she likes this fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Long, Long After</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Redacted Location]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands in front of a wall of tapes. They document both her own observations of her life and those of the people who had studied her. Silently, she picks the first one in the series, setting it into a VHS player, holding her breath as she presses “play.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face comes into vision. Her hair is caked in blood that does not belong to her, and her eyes hold a glowing light that she once thought did not belong to her. She sets her hands against the table she had recorded this on, wringing her fingers together as if to gather herself. It is not that she looks calm, but she does not look upset at all, having killed as many people as she just had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not know who I am,” she announces, without adieu. “I do not think of myself as Vanya any longer, but I figure I could give you that name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flicks her hair out of her eyes, impatient about the way the blood had started to dry against her skin and made her cheeks feel cracked. “If you wanted to call me by the number they gave me, you could call me Seven. I imagine it would be odd, to think of me as the lab did. It is for me too. Trust me, though, when I say it’s one of the less peculiar things I will tell you. I never would have thought I’d be a nineteen year old with a body count, but I find it important to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks straight to the camera, smiling brightly as the tape starts to distort, the camera struggling to function much longer. Her eyes are wild and her skin is glowing. Indiscernible to what she had once been and would never be again, she added, “Unless you’d like to be next.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Three Months Before</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Indiana</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It starts at her only friend’s birthday party. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is her friend, congregating and giggling with another girl that she’s chosen to replace her with. Lila hands Sissy the Ouija board she’d given her tonight. It had been Sissy’s favorite present, and she had made a point to show it. Vanya had gotten her a bracelet. She is not wearing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya steps over to them, eyeing the board wearily. It is not that she is afraid, she just knows that this will likely lead in Lila springing bullshit on them like usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a game, Vanya,” Sissy tells her, her smile brighter in the dim lighting Lila had insisted upon, illuminated only by the candles surrounding them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had been friends since they were in kindergarten. Where Sissy was outgoing and friendly, Vanya was quiet and timid. Usually, she would feel more bold within her presence, but she is feeling resentment tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe she is a little afraid, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have any questions for the dead,” Vanya tells her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘We’re all eighteen or just about to be now, too old for this anyways,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the thought she keeps to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask whether Leonard will ever like you back,” Lila sneers. She’s always been protective of her adoptive brother, and she also wants to torment Vanya. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya didn’t know if she liked Leonard in the first place for him to like her </span>
  <em>
    <span>back. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She knows that she’s grown closer to him recently, and that is all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changing the subject with an attempt at humor, Vanya asks, “Can I ask it for a car? Is it like a dead Santa scenario?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, since it’s my birthday, I’m going first,” Sissy cuts in, setting her pale hands against the heart-shaped game piece. Lila and Vanya crowd around it, following her movement at the jerk of her chin to do so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rachel!” Lila tells her. “Ask it how you’re going to die!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sissy agrees with a huge smile, and Vanya glares at Lila. Since she’d moved here half a year prior, she has made it her life’s mission to do two things: make Vanya feel like a third wheel and bother her relentlessly for having a crush on Lila’s brother, Leonard. She is tired of both of these things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t push the piece,” Lila says to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya rolls her eyes. “Got it, thanks. Anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sissy interrupts them. “How am I going to die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing happens. Until it does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the piece moves to ‘V’, Lila asks wryly, “Violently?” Vanya makes a face at her, willing her to be silent. Why did Sissy even want to be this girl’s friend?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t move to ‘I’ next, obviously. Instead, it lands on ‘A.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A van?” Sissy asks. “I’ll be hit with a van?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’d be an interesting story to tell at parties for me at least,” Lila says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks to Vanya, willing her to respond, but Vanya can’t. She stares intently at the board, stomach dropping for reasons she cannot explain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The game piece lands on ‘N.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it keeps moving until it reaches ‘Y.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of them are silent as they watch the board  with hawk-like focus, all perfectly aware as it reaches ‘A.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the other two devolve into an argument with one another about who pushed the piece, Vanya stares blankly ahead of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Sissy says finally. “We’ll all be fine. Let’s just watch a movie or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tightly, Vanya nods. They all just needed to relax. It would be okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya tries not to feel the pang of jealousy as Lila and Sissy sit next to one another as they curl and watch a movie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They would die three months later, anyways.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Directly After</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Indiana University Hospital</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Indiana</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens her eyes to a shrill beeping noise. Machines surround her, and she blinks in confusion. She realizes that maybe she is in a hospital bed, at the sterileness of the setting, at the too-white quality of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears voices all around her, talking quietly amongst themselves. She sits up in the bed, hearing the pillows shift as she hopes to eavesdrop by leaning forward. As she does, she notices the tubes stuck in her nostrils. She tries to pull them away, but, with horror, she realizes there are other tubes, attached with needles, in her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get them out,” she says softly. Her breaths are forming in short gasps, and she can hear from the monitor her pulse speeding up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” A voice rings out. Vanya cannot see who it belongs to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get them out!” Vanya screams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees her mother, who weakly attempts saying, “Settle down, Vanya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya can’t. When no one listens to her whimpers of taking them out, she takes them herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain is immense, but it is grounding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vanya, it’s okay,” her mother continues. “Just breathe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not okay. Something is very, very wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nurses begin to surround her, and she struggles to breathe. Seconds later, everything starts to feel heavy, and she collapses to the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wakes up sometime later. This time, she knows to not yell. She knows what will happen, so she does not open her mouth until she sees her mother hovering above her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needlessly, her mother says, “Don’t fight it, sweetie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya wonders if she had subconsciously started to claw at the tubes again, though she doesn’t feel them against her body. Her mother begins adjusting her pillows, muttering to herself softly as she does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya tries to move out of the way, but she finds she is unable to move much at all, the heavy haze of drug feeling like a straightjacket over her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groggily, she finds herself staring at two stern-looking nurses, one with a hideous bruise against her eye. “What’s wrong with me?” Vanya asks in confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother brushes back her bangs tenderly, “They gave you something to help you relax a little, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances down then, to find that her previous assumptions of the tubes being gone had actually been right. Instead, gauze bandages wrap around her wrists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks up at her mother, “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were in an accident,” she admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is the other driver-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a car accident,” her mother cuts off. “What is the last thing you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya studies the bags under her eyes, the greasiness to her hair. She hasn’t showered or slept in a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What day is it, Mom?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What day do you think it is?” She is evading the question, for reasons unknown to Vanya. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scared, Vanya asks, rather than says, “Wednesday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother eyes her warily, trying to pinch her face into nonchalance unsuccessfully. “Sunday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya glances around the room. She sees wilted flowers, toiletries and clothes that belong to her, and a few get well soon balloons, the air sucked in from them and making them stare at the floor forlornly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you remember, Vanya?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya looks at her mother. “I got out of class On Wednesday, drove home from school, and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finds she cannot remember what happened after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, she adds, “That’s it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again. “You were at the abandoned state hospital in-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya closes her eyes, not catching the very next words. Dread is sinking onto her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next words Vanya hears her say are, “The building collapsed in the middle of the night last Thursday. When the police came on the scene, they heard you screaming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When the building fell, you were just able to avoid being crushed, but you were unconscious by the time the police had found you. Likely, something hit your head. You do have a few bruises,” she lightly skirts her finger around one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya sits up, looking towards the mirror in the hospital room, trying to decipher what a few bruises meant when one has had a building fall on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurses stiffen, like her movement has startled them. They seem to think of themselves as security guards and not nurses, which Vanya wants to comment on but doesn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at the mirror, and there are a few patches of blue against her cheek and forehead, but otherwise-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The doctors say you’ll be just fine,” her mother says, smiling in that grim way of having one blessing in a pile of curses. “You could come home tonight, even, if you’d like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya flits her gaze to the nurses, “Why are they here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one with the black eye speaks. “We’ve been taking care of you. You can throw quite a punch, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t sound happy about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Vanya mumbles sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurse smiles, though it doesn’t meet her eyes. “Happens all the time. If you’re feeling like yourself now, you’re welcome to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya nods slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let us know if you need anything,” she says, walking away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya looks to the vase of flowers. It was Sissy’s favorite type. Softly, she asks her mother, “Did she visit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face darkens. “Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sissy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother makes a strangled sound. “No,” she answers. “Those are from her parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about the way she says it sends a shiver down her spine, “So she didn’t visit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she call?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panicked, Vanya reaches out her hand, “Give me your phone. I wanna call her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s talk about this later,” her mother suggests. “You should rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to call her now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was with you,” her mother tells her. “Leonard and Lila too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya stiffens. Her entire body starts shouting its dissent, begging the universe for this not to be true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And are they in the hospital?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother closes her eyes, guilt stark against her face for having to say what she says next. “They didn’t make it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How? How did they die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The building collapsed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an old building, Vanya. You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya feels like she might vomit. Denial cuts in, protecting her. “What if…? What if she was just trapped too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They searched, and they found…” she trails off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Vanya asks, voice finally starting to hitch. “What did they find?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother studies her in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me,” Vanya snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They found… remains,” she’s trying to sound vague as possible. “They’re gone, Vanya. They didn’t make it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya starts to gag at the scent of the flowers in the room, suddenly too fragrant, like they have crawled down her esophagus and started to congeal within her digestive system. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to know what happened,” Vanya says. “I want to know what happened to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vanya-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wraps her arms around herself securely. “You have to tell me, Mom,” she begs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t,” her mother says, eyes just now starting to fill with tears. “You’re the only one who knows.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>One Week After</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Greenwood Cemetery</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Indiana</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The funeral comes a few days later. While somber, Vanya is unable to cry. Each time she looks at the three coffins, she is incapable of letting the tears slip from her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone else was able to. People they didn’t know, people they didn’t like. Everyone was claiming to love them, regaling the funeral stories of all of what they had done together, despite weeks ago not having interacted with them at all. Everyone, that is, except Sissy, Leonard, and Lila. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is a brisk day, requiring a coat, one of the last ones she will experience for a while. She wraps her coat around herself securely, trying to avoid the gaze of her mother. Her mother, after seeing her wake up screaming multiple nights, hiding in closets to cry, and, finally, having to clean her cuts after she’d punched a mirror, had insisted she go to therapy, thinking it would bring her closure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, it brought her a diagnosis. When the psychologist explained to her what post-traumatic stress disorder was, Vanya had wanted to snap that she was well-aware of the term. Instead, she stared blankly ahead of her, willing silently for the appointment to be over. She finished the appointment with recommending a long-term care facility, like she’d taken one look at Vanya and saw no hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya had suggested moving away instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother had studied her warily as Vanya insisted that it would help. Vanya had eventually gotten her to relent, with the promise that if it didn’t, she would voluntarily go to the hospital. Vanya had explained that the reason she struggled so much was that she saw bits of her friends all over the house, wobbling her lip pathetically for good effect. Technically, as she was eighteen, she didn’t have to go where her mother asked, but she still needed to finish her last semester of high school, and didn't want to drop out when she had worked so hard before to get the grades she had. She would be moving right at the final semester, in January, started, but she figures it could easily be much worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she had been making the decision, talking on the phone with Vanya’s therapist, her brothers had snuck in beside her. Her mother had adopted the three of them when they were all the same age, but Ben and Luther treated her like older brothers regardless. “It sounds like she’s giving in,” Ben notes, squeezing her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If she doesn’t, we’ll figure it out,” Luther said, shifting his gaze uncomfortably. He still didn’t know how to react to Vanya after the accident, not that they were particularly close before. “You’ll do… fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya had raised her brows at him, but then her mother came out, saying, “We will be able to do this. I’ll be working for a lab in Florida. Does that work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Florida?” Ben had asked, wrinkling his face in disgust but shutting up the second her mother had flipped her blonde hair over to send him a reproachful look. Quickly, he’d backtracked, “Sounds… sunny!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Republican,” he grumbled under his breath. Vanya almost tells her mother that they shouldn’t do this, but then he saw Vanya’s panic and said, “If you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> think it will help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d shrugged. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>did not want to go to the hospital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to know that this is a serious sign of my love right here,” Ben told her, but his eyes held no malice. He had just been trying to make her laugh, she realized. She’d glanced down in shame, realizing she hadn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brothers had been entirely gracious about moving, just wanting her to be happy. Grace, her mother, had not been as certain, worriedly watching her frequently, oftentimes Vanya would wake up to see her mother staring around the crack of her bedroom door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, as her mother stiffens beside her, Vanya wants to snap, but she can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>fault their life is changing completely; it’s Vanya’s. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Eight Weeks After</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Miami, Florida</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben frowns at her choice of breakfast. Luther is flipping through assignments he’d somehow acquired before the semester had even started, oblivious to Ben’s disdain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Vanya snaps, dropping the peanut-butter-and-marshmallow sandwich. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s hardly a breakfast food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it that people are allowed to eat donuts, muffins, and coffee cake for breakfast on a regular basis but people still shame certain foods as being ‘not breakfast foods’? If this sandwich were made with bagel instead of bread, you would never even question it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luther glances up from his physics homework, sighing, “You two, stop fighting. You’ll give Mom an ulcer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya imagines there would have been a classic </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘they started it’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>discussion, but then their mother rushes by, buttoning up her lab coat as her ponytail sways behind her. “I’m sorry that I won’t be there for your guys’ first day of school, but as it’s also my first day…” She is clearly making an effort not to stare at Vanya. If Vanya asked her, she would certainly stay home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forcing a casual grin, Vanya says, “Have a good day at work, Mom.” For good measure, though she knows she might be laying it on a little thick, she adds, “Hopefully Ben and Luther can agree on who gets to drive, otherwise we’ll for sure be late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace beams at her, forgetting to laugh at Vanya’s ‘joke’ because she’s too excited at the concept of her making one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dutifully, clearly seeing that Vanya needs someone to back up her facade of normalcy, Ben announces, “I won’t be driving. If I read one of those intense anti-abortion signs when I drive, I will absolutely wreck and kill us all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luther squeaks at the same time Mom does, and Vanya realizes that they’re concerned the word ‘kill’ may trigger a PTSD episode. Ben shoots her an apologetic glance, and Vanya quickly says, “It’s fine, guys. I’m fine. It’s the first day of school! That’s going to be fun!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all exchange a glance, and she knows that that means she protested too much. Her mother shoots a significant look to her brothers before hugging all of them and saying goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you-” Luther starts, but she waves him off, reaching down to finish her sandwich. They’re all dressed in the uniform for the pretentious private school they’re enrolled in, and she wants to pick at the threads of her skirt but worries that they’ll attribute it to anxiety and inevitably tell Mom about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we get going soon?” Vanya asks, reaching for her backpack at her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luther nods, grabbing his own and the car keys. Ben touches her arm lightly as Luther jogs off to the car, but she shakes her head, silently telling him not to talk about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they’re driving to the school, Luther mentions that he’s already joined a few clubs and asks Ben to drive her home, which he agrees to easily. Vanya listens to their conversation from her spot in the back before reaching into her bag for her journal, writing about what she’s really thinking about. She doesn’t share this journal with anyone, though her mother has suggested multiple times that showing it to her therapist might be a good idea for her intake appointment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trip to school takes much less time than she’d expected it to, and she hastily shoves her journal into her bag while Luther parks. Ben and Vanya walk to the main office, getting their schedules. When Vanya realizes the school is on a block schedule, she feels herself grimacing. She essentially has to have two first days because of it now, and she is already preparing for doomsday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we have similar schedules at least?” Vanya asks Ben. Luther chose concurrent enrollment, claiming AP was a scam by the College Board to keep people paying for exorbitant college fees by giving them false hope with AP tests. Ben had started the year saying he was completely afraid of cars, so he opted for the AP route. Vanya knew that Ben had really done it because Vanya had mentioned something about how it would be weird to not have her brothers in class with her when they’d been filling out their schedule requests as juniors in their study hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, looks like it,” Ben comments. “The only difference is that you have Spanish when I have AP Lit and I have French when you have your AP Lit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You took creative writing?” Vanya asks, frowning at his schedule. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to be an English major, so I thought it might help me get prepared for writing essays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya raises her brows, and he sheepishly admits, “I asked to have as many classes with you as possible when I went to advising. Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you had a friend right now, and-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops speaking when she wraps her arms around him, returning her hug hastily. “You’re not mad?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do need a friend right now,” Vanya admits. “Thank you, Ben.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think that being here will help?” His voice isn’t judgemental or prying; he just sounds curious more than anything else. She realizes that he’s not expected an honest answer from her until just now, that he’s been waiting until she’s ready to not just give him an evasive answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Softly, Vanya says, “I don’t really know, Ben, but I don’t want to spend time in residential until we’ve exhausted all the other options.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that. You know we’d still visit and stuff, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya pulls away, snarking, “I actually thought that you were just going to abandon me the second I got diagnosed with my hysteria.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They wouldn’t diagnose you with that,” Ben tells her, searching through the map for the room of their first hour, AP Statistics. “You’re not a desperate housewife from the 1900’s in a disappointing marriage. If you were in the 1900’s, they’d probably take one look at your choice of clothes and throw you in for…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows why he trails off. A few months before she’d died, Vanya had told him the confusing feelings she’d had for Sissy. Even though Ben is trying to act as he had before, he’s holding back, not sure what he’ll say that will send her into some sort of fit. It makes her stomach sink, and she tucks her hands into the uniform cardigan, staring down at the wooden flooring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Ben mutters, reaching over to her before dropping his hand. They reach the math class by then, and Vanya keeps her head ducked down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is, of course, to her detriment. There is a backpack in the way of her steps, and, before the teacher can introduce them as the new kids, she trips down, falling straight on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, God, Vanya, are you-“ She can </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear </span>
  </em>
  <span>the second-hand embarrassment in Ben’s voice, and she keeps her head against the floor, feeling blood dribbling down her cheek and onto the carpet. She imagines if she stays here long enough, bleeding, she’ll eventually bleed out and die, rather than have to face the rest of the class. Maybe if she dies, Ben will score cool-points as the guy whose little sister died in the middle of class and he won’t have to suffer the fate she’s already envisioning for herself. Though Vanya is now technically an adult, she is also only 18, and she can only visualize a horrible, awful future now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she dead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously not,” Ben snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you her boyfriend? You’re so cute together, oh my god-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m her </span>
  <em>
    <span>brother.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but, like, are you dating, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vanya, you need to get up,” Ben says softly, choosing to ignore the jeering of their new classmates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teacher walks over, and she nearly groans as the man, way too old to be calling her sweetie, asks her, “Do you need me to call the nurse, sweetie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good,” Vanya insists, finally succumbing to lifting her head. The blood is coating most of her face, and she quickly lies, “I have, uh… chronic nosebleeds. With… weather changes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben frowns at her, likely the only one to decipher that lie as she was very convincing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weakly, she asks, “Could I go to the restroom, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go with her,” a voice pipes up, and she glances up at a pretty girl raising her hand. She manages to wear the uncomfortable uniform with grace and elegance, and instantly Vanya hopes that she’s actually trying to be her friend. If she spends too much time with Ben, people would apparently get the wrong idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that okay?” Vanya glances up at her teacher again, and he nods, letting Vanya walk with the girl to the restroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she’s given permission, the girl grabs one of Vanya’s hands and leads the way to the restrooms, handing her a few tissues and announcing, “I’m Allison.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya tries to introduce herself nasally through the tissue, but then she hears Allison make a frustrated noise, glancing over at her in confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allison sneers, “That fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastard.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanya watches in confusion as Allison dashes off to some guy who’d, until six seconds ago, had his hand hiked up the skirt of a girl, semi-hidden in a corner of the hallway. He scowls at Allison when she reaches them, glancing over to Vanya once when when Allison waves her arm frantically in Vanya’s retreating form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finds the bathroom by herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she gets there, she grabs too many paper towels, wetting them and cleaning off her face, avoiding looking in the mirror. She’d started to get more and more thin recently, and it was always disconcerting to look at her sallow cheeks or the dark shadows under her eyes. Only when her face feels entirely clean does she look up, to check and make sure that she’s gotten everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not her face in the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Sissy’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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